Hard to Say
by Dr. Fluffmuffin
Summary: An innocent day turns sour when a cry for help lands Cole and Jay in a dangerous situation.
1. Chapter 1

**I own nothing but the story. At time of writing, I hadn't seen the new episodes, so if there are any contradictions (there shouldn't be), then that's how the story is just going to be. My stories work best if canon is ignored, anyway.**

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It's hard to describe the nature of Jay's relationship with Cole. From friends to enemies to friends again, theirs is one mixed with petty arguments, heartfelt insults, and an occasional deep conversation that only cements their roles as each other's best friend. Jay cannot deny that as strong as he knows the friendship is, he's no clue of the exact degree of its fortitude. Perhaps there isn't a limit, but they've been torn apart once.

Really, it's anyone's guess, because no one knows.

Jay certainly didn't.

Not until a sunny afternoon in early spring.

He chalks the day up as one of the worst in his life, but it doesn't start out that way. In fact, most of the day was well. Wu's tea shop is finally complete, the ninja are relatively secure and learning to be happy in the new normal they've created for themselves, and they finally have time to relax before opening day the following morning.

Then a call comes, and the afternoon finds Cole and Jay staring at each other, alone in a falling building.

Not far from the shop is an urban district, the only one in miles upon miles of farms and forest. Zane's sacrifice and Garmadon's have made the ninja well-known faces in this area, and they've been called over to handle mishaps more than they cared for. Most of these are little more than petty thievery, and the ninja have taken care to explain that they simply don't have the time to deal with every minor crisis that pops up, especially when their youngest member is dealing with the loss of his father.

The calls are less frequent, but they still come.

The one today doesn't come until late, so the morning starts off like any other, better, even.

There's a lot they could do to relax; the sun is high and the wind wobbles tree trunks until they sing.

Though most of the ninja decide to hang around the tea shop, Cole takes the van out for some joyriding. Jay joins him, because it hasn't been long since they made up their friendship, and though they're on good terms, he wants to make up for lost time, wants to take their friendship back to what it was before they fought. The task is serious, but Jay quickly finds himself laughing as they attempt to sing along to bad pop music, turned up loud and obnoxious.

Cole rolls the windows down as they ride through hills and farms; Jay has his feet propped and crossed on the dash. They're cheerful, enjoying each other's company like the months of fighting haven't done a thing, like the turmoil of the past year hasn't strained relationships for everyone in their little family.

For now, they're happy. Springtime is here.

"You think the shop will be successful?" Cole is practically yelling to be heard over the Weekend Whip as it blasts.

Jay's in the middle of fingering an air guitar when the question is posed, and he doesn't stop as he replies, nonchalant, "After all that work, it'd be insulting for it to fail."

Cole gives a little laugh and lets a silence pass before saying, "You don't think it's disrespectful to Garmadon, do you?"

The unexpected seriousness of the question causes him to halt, fingers curling into his palms. "Er—" he thinks, "I don't—I don't know. Misako and Lloyd are okay with it, so…"

Cole nods, eyes on the road before them, "Yeah…" he sighs, "I'm glad that Lloyd is doing better, at least."

The conversation is tilting into a spot that doesn't match the setting. The sun is high, the wind blowing, the conversation dangerously dreary.

"He's a trooper," says Jay, words more clipped than he intends. They both know that Lloyd handles trauma like he handles emotions: hiding everything in a dark corner of his mind and hoping the pain goes away on its own. It's something he's working on—that they're all working on together—but it's an issue, nonetheless.

The rest of the team isn't much better, really.

"How're you holding up?" Jay asks after the break in conversation stretches too long.

"We weren't that close."

"Not just that," Jay huffs, "Everything else, y'know?"

Cole shrugs, "I'm not the one that needs worrying over, really."

_What's the point in asking? _Jay thinks, letting it slide regardless.

"I'm glad that Zane is back."

"Definitely. Almost feels normal."

Yes, almost.

The conversation lasts no more than a minute, but it's effective in killing the mood they worked so hard to create. It is the spot they're in right now, though. Jay notices it, distantly. They're on good terms, but they don't interact as easily as they once did. Conversation stilts rather than flows, and it frustrates him.

Jay looks out the window, watching broom straw threaten to rip free from their roots. The music quiets with the two of them.

At least they're talking again.

"You up for some lunch?" Cole asks after a while.

A beat.

"You really have to ask?"

Cole laughs, and Jay looks back, smile making a slow return. They flow again, for just a moment, and Cole turns into the town that bothered them so. Maybe there's a distant shop where there won't be many people waiting to ogle them.

"What are you in the mood for?" says Cole, "I could go for a pizza."

"So long as it's real pizza," Jay eyes the buildings surrounding the street, "like the kind they have at the arcade."

The sentence earns him a snort, and he grins.

They don't notice or choose not to see the column of black smoke, then small enough to ignore, seven streets over from where they end up; a pizzeria on a corner. Later, Jay wonders how they could've missed such a sight, and he wonders how much a difference would've been made had they noticed, but for now, they're just out to get lunch, two friends.

The pizzeria sits between a bank and the ugliest thrift shop Jay thinks he's ever seen, which means that he and Cole definitely need to go inside it once they finish eating. Outdoor seating seems ideal at the time of arrival, but thirty minutes later they've lost most of their napkins and the sun's heat can't quite reach them through what's left of winter's chill. All in all, through their selective vision, the afternoon is perfect.

The sun is high, and they're together, two friends.

Then Cole decides to ruin the mood for a second time. "Any luck patching things up with Nya?"

He's lucky Jay didn't choke. Instead, he frowns at his slice of pizza. "We're friends," he states, "but it's up in the air about whether we'll...ever get back together."

Cole doesn't offer another "I'm sorry," but it's understood. "I've been talking to her, too. Mostly just apologizing for my behavior."

"You and me both."

Another silence, and, though companionable, it's uncomfortable. Jay hates this spot they're in, almost as much as he hates what they were during the fight. This is almost worse, even. At least back then he could use his anger to inhibit how much he missed the ease of their friendship. Now it sticks out like a sore thumb.

"So…" Jay searches for conversation and grasps at a sentence, "What do you plan on doing in your spare time now that the fighting is done?"

Cole glances away and shrugs, "I dunno. I feel like the fighting will never be done; you know what I mean?"

A depressing take, but, "Yeah."

"I've been drawing a lot more, though."

"That so?"

"Just sketches and things. Nothing serious."

"Lovely," says Jay, and it is, "I've been playing video games, myself."

Another snort. "I know. Between you and Lloyd—"

"I could find another hobby," Jay smiles, "I haven't worked on any of my projects in a while."

In truth, he hasn't a desire to do much. Whatever sparked his ideas for invention or innovation has been doused for a while, now. The longer he stares at his meal, the more he thinks that maybe Lloyd isn't the only one not doing so well.

"I'd like to see you invent again," says Cole.

The statement and smile that accompanies it are quiet on this busy street, and it warms Jay from the inside out.

Then Cole's eyes slide to the right, turn distant, and his face falls.

"Jay," he says.

"Ninja!" comes a cry.

That's their call. The column of black smoke is large, now—Jay wonders how they could have missed it—and a lone policeman stands at the end of the street.

Seven streets over, a building burns from the bottom up, apparently the result of a robbery gone wrong, but no one is sure. They know that there was an explosion, a bomb filled with kerosene, and a building full of unsuspecting office workers. Those people sit panicking at the top, eight, nine stories up, and the building shakes.

They ask the ninja to get everyone out, to save those help can't reach. Never mind that they're unprepared for a problem they happened upon, never mind that the ninja work best as a team, never mind that they're forced to don protection from the citizens gathered around, rather than their more reliable gi. Really—Jay decides later, after the day becomes what it does—they should've left the local law enforcement to deal with it themselves, but like vultures to the scent of the dead, ninja follow the sounds of screams.

Until that point the day had been well, and though this makes it considerably worse, it isn't what turns the day into one of the worst in Jay's life.

That comes later, inside.

The building is not ideal. From the rooftop of the edifice next door, they can see the poor foundation, the fire escape that fell away. If it burns much longer, it will collapse entirely.

And it does, but not yet.

There are people inside, and, like the fools they are, Cole and Jay go in.

"What's the plan?" Jay shouts as they're swarmed by worried civilians.

It's dark in here, but not yet burning. Jay wonders if they'll have to start dropping citizens out of windows, then thinks better of it.

"We'll just get 'em to the building over," says Cole, next shouting to those cowering around them, "I want everyone to stay calm while we figure this out. I promise you're going to be okay—"

Jay nods at this, wanting to believe his friend. He knows Cole doesn't break promises.

"My friend and I are going to move you all to the neighboring roof," he says, pointing, "Once there, you guys need to find a quick and safe way to get to the ground. Can you do that?"

Wide-eyed faces nod along, high-strung with terror. Jay looks around as they get to work. Cole tries building a bridge of sorts out of a hole in the wall and a wooden beam, but they end up having to carry people and jump. The building is shaking.

They're on one story of many they must check, and everyone wants to get off at once. It's a daunting task, and Cole and Jay are vastly under-prepared.

No, the fighting will never be done.

The day isn't the worst yet. Jay will admit that he's been in stickier situations than this, though there's not a lack of fear as he goes about his task. He can barely carry people in normal situations, and he certainly can't carry anyone and jump back and forth from one building to the next.

So, that task is given to Cole, and Cole alone. Jay remains inside and searches through increasingly dangerous stories, searching for anyone who might still be around, hiding. Though scared, he's glad he doesn't have to wait and watch with the rest of the civilians; he'd hate it if Cole happened to fall, and he was there to watch it.

But Cole wouldn't fall, and doesn't.

Cole made a promise, and Cole keeps his promises.

Jay can't tell how long they've been at this. He has a watch, hidden under the sleeve of a large coat meant to protect him from fire's damage. Fortunately, he's no need for it yet, but the rooms are getting darker, and the lower he goes, the hotter it gets.

The town is attempting to put the fire out, but the building shakes.

After too long, Jay finds himself in an empty story, looking around. He can't go down any further, and he's the last person standing. He wonders—hopes—prays that everyone is out, that Cole got them to safety, but he doesn't know.

Didn't know.

He should've. Cole keeps his promises. The civilians ended up okay.

Moments later, he hears a shout.

"Jay!"

His name. Cole is calling; the building shakes.

"Cole!" he cries.

"Jay!"

"Cole!"

Jay has to climb his way back up a floor, two more, and finds Cole running towards him.

"What are you doing?" he shouts.

"Looking for you," Cole grabs at his hand, points towards a window, "We have to go!"

"You shouldn't have come downstairs!"

The world beneath their feet jerks as Jay says it, and that's all he has time to say. Cole's eyes go wide, the world stops turning, and they might as well have stopped breathing for the air they graced the moment.

As the two of them share a look, the building collapses. There's no time to run, hardly time for thought. For the briefest second, Jay feels weightless, in mind as well as body as he processes the sheer irony of the situation.

He thinks that Cole feels the same way, and he regrets that they'd ever fought at all. Then they wouldn't have lost those months. At the very least, and the least is all he can seem to hope for these days, he's thankful that they're going to fall together as friends.

The sun is high, the wind blowing, and they stand, two friends. For that, Jay is thankful.

Before he can accept their fate, though, Cole's eyes change again, and the last thing Jay remembers before the fall stops and they slam against something hard is Cole's arm curling around him and pulling him close, shielding him from whatever fell above.

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**Fair warning, this fic is incredibly self indulgent. Thank you for taking the time to read it. Have a great day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I own nothing but the story.**

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Something warm runs through Jay's eyes.

It's the first thing he registers. The next is the hand in his hair, half clenched, pulling at strawberry strands from where it rests. He groans, but it doesn't move.

There's an...incredible weight against his back. He lies on his stomach against something hard, crushed, hardly able to breath. For the briefest of moments, he wonders where he is, but then the events of this horrible, rotten day come rushing back with each pound of the headache now thrumming through his skull.

He's enough strength to groan, and that's when he registers the arm pinned between his stomach and what's either the floor or the earth.

Jay's eyes snap open; he jerks his head to the right.

He can hardly breathe; there's dust everywhere, and the weight is incredible, _incredible_ against his back. It hurts—in a way that's different than anything he's felt before, and he tries to move, but he can't—he can't.

His friend's head lies slumped over his shoulder. How long has he been out? Jay tries to call his name, but can't get the word out of his mouth, can't get air to move in and out of his lungs. Cole can't seem to hear him, anyway.

There's a horrible, awful, ugly second where Jay thinks that Cole is dead, but he feels a hot breath exit his friend's nose, and he sighs.

Or, he tries. The dust in the air, what little air he can get, makes him cough, and Cole jerks awake with the movement.

"Argh—ah!" Cole grunts, and Jay says his name again.

"C—Cole?"

"...Jay?"

Jay has one free hand he can move, just barely. "Can you…" he brushes the liquid running into his eyes and comes away with red fingers, "Can you move at all?"

He should; Jay prays he can. One of the many, many side effects of having powers is the ability to withstand some of their elements' extremes. For Kai, he's more resistant to burns. For Jay, he can walk away scot free from the effects of lightning, and Cole is remarkably durable.

But even a building might be too much.

"I...ow…" Cole is half out of it, breathing words that Jay can't distinguish, grunting again as he braces his hands—or rather, his one hand—against the concrete and lifts.

His arm shakes—unusual, but expected—and the weight against Jay's back lessens; he can breathe again. He tests his arms and legs, thankful when he finds he can move them. His chest hurts, his breath hitches when he breathes, but he can move.

Cole lifts away the rest of the rubble with a cry that almost turns into a scream, and he falls backward when he's done, trembling where he lays. Jay gets up, sore limbs protesting, and crouches into a sitting position.

For a moment, the two of them just sit, heaving.

They're in what might have once been a room, but it is more of a pocket of dead space within the rubble. There's enough room to stand, but only if one were to crouch over. Now that they're out from being trapped, Jay can hear voices somewhere above, but they're distant, and he doesn't know if he can shout loud enough for them to hear.

Jay looks around. It's small here, and he can see dust illuminated under tiny streams of light, but he can't see the sun.

He can't see the sun.

"Oh boy."

Behind him, Cole sounds breathless. He's wheezing, too, an odd sound. Normally, those words would be ones said in mirth, like when Lloyd finds a bag of candy hidden behind a box of oatmeal, but everything is wrong about the way Cole says it.

Fear slides ice cold fingers up his spine when Jay turns around.

Cole's hand is red. More so, there's red on the concrete they lay on, and red on Jay's jacket that isn't from within.

"N—oo," Jay looks his friend over.

There are small spots of the same color on the front of his shirt, a head injury like the one Jay is sporting, but behind Cole, around him, the rubble is stained with far too much red.

"Cole?"

His friend stares at him, wide eyes glazed, and he lifts his arm.

Logically, Jay knew that his friend would be injured. A building dropped down on top of them; no one walks away from that, not even someone with the natural durability of Cole. But Jay finds himself shell-shocked that day.

When Cole lifts his arm, there's a wound on his side. Sliding deep across his back and to his front, it cuts along his midriff, through his shirt and through skin that had seen far worse things than a building in some no-name town. It's big—goodness, it's huge—and blood pumps red out of it, all over the place.

The culprit seems a metal beam, a lucky spike in a mass of rock, sticking out of the rubble behind him.

A heartbeat passes, and Jay doesn't know what to do.

Then Cole speaks, "Good grief—"

Jay jerks; his breath hitches and he jerks forward, crawling on his knees towards his injured friend. He stares at the wound, feels panic spiking through his veins, and he still doesn't know what to do.

"Cole—!" he says again. He doesn't know what to do; _he doesn't know what to do_. "Oh no—"

"Jay?" Cole's hand is quivering; the one that was pinned beneath Jay just rests across his belly, unmoving. Cole starts to breathe faster, "What—what do we do?"

'_Get help' _is the first thing that comes to mind, but they're far from help. There's only Jay, and Jay doesn't know what to do, because he's just Jay. What he does know is that Cole shouldn't be breathing this fast. Panting increases the heart rate, and the faster the heart rate, the faster blood pumps out of the wound.

Right, the wound.

Jay presses his hand hard against it, thoughts escaping him.

Cole jerks and yells, slapping it away.

"We have to stop it!" says Jay, unable to tear his eyes from the sight.

"Not like that!" Cole blinks at him; he's blinking a lot.

_That's not good_, Jay thinks. No, no.

"We'll do it—" Cole's good hand flops around as it reaches for his jacket, trying to pull it off, "We'll—we'll use this."

"I got it," Jay yanks off his own and wraps it around Cole. He ties the sleeves up tight, but it's not enough. Panicking, he goes for Cole's belt, pulling it free.

In his fear, Cole releases half a laugh, somewhere between hysteria and passing out, "Woah. I know we're friends again, but this is a little forward."

"This isn't the time for jokes!" Jay doesn't mean to yell. He really doesn't. "How deep is it? How bad does it hurt?"

"I don't—" Cole grunts as Jay pulls the belt tight, and he looks as the red already begins to soak through, "Oh my."

'_Oh my_' is the understatement of the century, and Jay goes for Cole's jacket, using it to press against the outside. His friend is still blinking a lot.

"I shouldn't…" Cole breathes, "I shouldn't have taken it out."

"What?" Jay's voice is clipped; he's clenching his teeth.

"The beam," Cole points, "I should've left it in."

The beam is copper and dripping under the light, still stuck in the wall that crushed them, and Jay can't bear to look at it. No, no he can't.

"There's nothing we can do about it now," says Jay, "Just promise you won't die on me, alright?"

Cole doesn't answer. Jay begins to shout, hoping the voices far above will hear them. They need help, and there's only so much that Jay can do. Cole begins to sag sideways.

Jay can't believe this is happening. Surely this is some sort of sick dream, and he's going to wake up to Cole yelling at him for falling asleep in the middle of lunch.

This can't be real.

He ties the sleeves of Cole's jacket over the belt and his own. The amount of blood soaking through is obscene; he should've looked the injury over before covering it, perhaps. Maybe Cole could tell him, but Cole is fading between awareness and...something else. Would it be shock? Jay doesn't know; how could he? He does know that there's too much blood being lost too fast, and that Cole had to have been bleeding while they were unconscious.

Goodness, how long were they unconscious?

"I'm so stupid."

Cole speaks in a whisper.

"I'm sorry?" says Jay, looking for something else to apply pressure with.

"I didn't think this would happen."

"This?"

"Death, Jay, I didn't think it would happen."

"It's not going to," Jay sounds more confident than he is, but that might just be because he refuses to believe it as even a possibility. Friends don't just die—Zane didn't, not for a long time, anyway. Jay inhales, exhales faster than normal.

"You don't know that," says Cole.

"Shut up!"

"Listen," Cole puts his good hand on his shoulder, but his grip isn't as strong as it's supposed to be, "Under my bed, I've got a shoebox with sixty dollars in it. I want you to have it, Jay. And give my love to everyone at home."

"Shut up—"

"No," says Cole, "I've also got an orange scarf in there that I was going to give you for your birthday, but it's only half done. I was crocheting it, and it's easy to learn. I'm sure you could—"

"Stop talking like that!" Jay finally looks to his friend's face, vision blurring. He tells himself it's dust. "You're not going to die!"

"You don't know that!" Cole shouts, and his words slur, "I just might, and if I don't get to talk to you again, I want to say what I need to say, so don't interrupt me again!"

Jay inhales, exhales.

"Look," Cole swallows, lips—Jay looks at his lips, and they're an odd color—quivering, "I haven't always been good to you, but you're my best friend, Jay."

Jay swallows, the act difficult.

"You're my best friend—the greatest," Cole rests his head back, and Jay's hands begin to shake, "and I love you, okay? I love you so much. I'm sorry I didn't say that often enough—I'm sorry I spent so long hating you. You're my best friend, and I love you."

Jay looks away. He has to; it's dusty. So dusty. He wipes his eyes, notices his hands are red, and he looks for something else to apply pressure with. He must find something; he has to help.

"I'm so...so grateful to have known you…" the hand against Jay's shoulder falls away, and when Jay looks back, Cole's eyes are closing, "I'm grateful…"

_No. No. No. _"No!" Jay presses his hand against Cole's neck, "Stay awake! Stay with me!"

There's a pulse, but Cole's eyes remain stubbornly closed. Jay can't handle this; he's vastly unprepared for this situation. They'd just gone out for some lunch. That's all they'd wanted.

An afternoon where all they had to worry about was lunch.

Jay shouts for help, calls for someone, anyone to find them in this hellhole. There are voices above him, but he can't hear.

"Cole!" he shouts again, "C'mon, c'mon." He pats his friend's cheek, copper handprints left behind in his wake, and he tries to think of something to do. But what can he do; he's just Jay Walker, a ninja who should've stayed at the teashop, should've convinced Cole to do the same.

"Cole!" he looks up, "Help! Help us!" At this point he isn't sure if he's shouting for the townspeople or at the First Spinjitzu Master himself.

It hits him slowly, late. When he has his hand pressed against his friend's neck, feeling a pulse push through, it hits him, an awful realization of what he is about to lose. Then, the world suddenly feels incredibly small. There isn't anyone up above; there's just Cole and Jay, two friends, trapped together in a fallen building.

Friends.

Friends.

Friends.

At this point, he takes off his shirt and adds it to the layers of makeshift bandages, but something happens. He senses it more than he can see it, but Cole isn't there anymore. Jay looks up, up, into his friend's face, and Cole isn't there.

He can't help it. He screams.

He grabs his friend and yanks him down with more force than he intends, lays him down and places both hands on his chest. Nothing is there, but if there's anything that he's learned in the months they spent fighting each other, it's that they're the most stubborn people on the face of Ninjago.

And Cole isn't going to die until Jay says so.

Jay has only vague memories of Nya teaching them CPR, but he remembers enough. He huffs with each compression and he wonders, how could he have let this happen? How could he have let a fight ruin their friendship? How did it take Zane dying and the heat of another battle to finally make up?

Most importantly, though; how could he have lost so much time?

They're never going to get that back.

Never.

Never.

Never.

Jay's hands are fists. He can't see. His vision is blurry, and it's suddenly too bright; it's the sun.

_The sun. _

Jay looks up, and people crowd his vision, strangers, faceless and familiar all at once. They're standing around him, too, and he's no clue how they got there. Perhaps they just appeared, when fate decided it didn't want to hear him cry anymore.

And Jay's trying so hard not to.

They try to pull his hands away from Cole, and he can't—he can't lose him. He shouts and screams, but they say they can help, that they need to get him out of here before it's too late, as if it isn't already so.

Jay is a ninja, but they pull him back. He wonders if his lightning could have done something, anything, to help him and chides himself for not thinking of it.

He watches, helpless, helpless, as they try and to revive his friend with a defibrillator.

The first two tries don't work, and Jay feels each passing second hollow out a hole in his heart. He tells them to kick it up all the way.

Cole is, he prays, able to take it.

A beat passes, and there's nothing.

Another try, nothing.

Then, finally, a series of buzzes ring through the air; there's a pulse, they say, and Jay drops his head.

They lift Cole out on a red gurney, raising him up towards the sun. Jay remains in the rubble, half in shadow, certain that this is some sort of metaphor, but he's too upset to think of what it is. He's just thankful that Cole is in better hands than his own.

A woman crosses his vision, wrinkled and creased where she frowns at him.

"You need to be examined, dear. Can you walk?"

Jay can't hear past his thoughts. Frankly, he doesn't think he can even stand up.

"Mr. Walker?"

Walker? Oh. Right.

He wishes they weren't so recognizable without their masks. "Is," he starts, and the woman leans closer to hear, "Is he going to be okay?"

He's trying not to cry, but his voice betrays him with a crack.

The woman doesn't answer him. Instead, she places a gentle hand under the crook of his elbow and asks him to try and stand.

He can't. There's no way he can. He raises his hands, brings one to his brow, and says, softly, "Just—give me a minute."

He's trying so hard.

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**Thank you kindly for reading. Thank you as well for the lovely reviews left on the last chapter. I hope you all have a marvelous day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I own nothing but the story.**

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Jay walks away that day with four fractured ribs and a bump on the head that would make the hole in Kai's blush. His body is riddled with cuts and bruises of many kinds, but aside from that, he's as fit as a fiddle. Cole had taken the brunt of the damage caused by the collapsing building, allowing Jay not only to survive, but to walk away.

Jay is grateful, if angry.

There are many details about the event that have haunted Jay since, but the image that keeps coming back, more so than the grisly memories, is the look in his friend's eyes as he decided to pull Jay beneath him. It's a sharp thing, resolute in both standing and decision. It's the kind of look one gives when they're staring death in the face and daring it to take them.

It's that look that haunts Jay.

Cole's powers do grant him some immunity to the force of the building, but the metal beam tore the lining of vital organs, serving as the cause for most of the bleeding back in the hole they were in. The bruising he took to the back wasn't light, either.

The hours he spends in surgery are long; even after Jay is released with bandages and enough painkillers to make Serpentine high for a week, Cole lies behind off-white doors.

Somehow, the ninja find them in all the chaos. Looking back, it isn't too hard; the event caused heads all over the region to turn, but the first time Jay sees them since the innocent morning is when he's lying on a table, gazing at the bruises on his torso as a doctor looks over an X-ray.

Kai walks in first, his head peering around a corner, as though scouting. When he sees Jay, he gives a shout down the hall, high-pitched and flushed with relief.

The comfort his friends' presence brings is almost too powerful to name, and truth be told, Jay desires nothing less than a night surrounded by their comfort, hearing their voices. To his dismay, painkillers make him sleepy, and the doctor has given him a boatload.

Nevertheless, he gives his friends each a hug. He pulls them as tight as he can manage, inhales, memorizes the feel and warmth of each of them. They're his friends, and he'll be damned if he ever takes that for granted again.

He describes what happened in a low voice, scratched raw from smoke and screaming. They likely knew of it, but they listen intently, expressions grave.

The day is long, the sun gone, and it's only when he can't keep his eyes open anymore that the doctor asks the ninja to leave. Jay doesn't want them to; he can't stand the thought of spending the night alone, but he isn't up for arguing.

He's so tired of fighting.

They tuck him into a stiff bed under stiffer blankets, and though his mind is spiraling at a speed too fast for thought, he falls asleep, the day weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Cole allowed him to walk away that day, to walk away for tomorrow.

Jay isn't in the hospital too long afterwards; there's little one can do for broken ribs except rest and try not to move. Cole remains in intensive care. They don't let anyone see him, but Lloyd tells Jay that he's getting better every day. Jay isn't sure where Lloyd gets the information, but he forces himself to believe it, anyway.

He wishes he could have done more.

When Cole finally is removed from the ICU, it's been a week.

Jay finds him in a wing far, thankfully so, from the more urgent areas. The information is a small, surprising comfort, the only he gets from the scene. When Jay walks into the room, helped along by Nya, Cole looks awful. Sun-kissed skin sits pale against the sheets, mottled purple and yellow. He's hooked up to all sorts of machines and fluids, and one arm, the arm that saved Jay's life, is shelled with a cast.

He looks beaten and, though asleep, tired.

Jay can relate.

He sits in a chair next to the side table, which is already covered in cards. Jay hadn't the energy to make one himself, but Zane brought something in his name; in a small ivory grey pot, there gathers a bundle of daffodils, a mix of cream and cadmium.

They're Cole's favorites.

Though he knows he's in for a long wait, Jay asks Nya for time alone. There's a lot he wants to say, and it's a lot to plan out.

In some ways, he's still angry. In others, he's grateful. And still others, he's a mess of emotions that aren't easy to sort through on his own without making his head hurt.

The wait is long. After everything, it is long.

The chair, a hard plastic one, is hell on his back, but injured ribs make every position an uncomfortable one to be in. Sitting in it for hours on end do him no favors, but he's willing.

He decides that it's the least he can do.

When Cole wakes, it's to sunlight that shines in sheaths through the blinds over his bed. Jay is caught dozing by mistake. The first sign he gets that his friend is awake comes in the form of a hand, brushing a feather-like touch against his own.

Jay jerks, wheezes at the rattle of pain that shoots through his torso, and looks his friend over.

Cole is smiling at him.

It's a beautiful sight.

"Cole," he greets through a grin. The swell of relief that swallows his chest is enough to make his head drop.

"Hey," his friend says. It's a terribly simple word after all that's occurred, but Jay's practically giddy.

Or upset.

The urge to cry has sprung up again, making his chest ache, and he can't explain the origin of the feeling. He tries to talk through it, given that that's what he does best, and that his friend has spoken to him—

—his friend has spoken to him.

His friend is alive, healing.

"Cole," repeats Jay, "You—" a wave of emotion capsizes his control before he can stop it, "Why would—why would you do that?"

The smile falls, and Jay regrets saying anything at all, but Cole isn't upset.

He tries sitting up—winces—then says, set in determination, "Why wouldn't I?"

_Why wouldn't I?_ The words echo far through Jay's mind, past the memory of his friend's face that haunts him so, and he wonders what it is he did to deserve this. "You…" he tries, "How do you feel?"

Cole chuckles, a harsh sound that forces his good hand to grab at his bandaged side. He's a wreck, through and through. Jay almost smiles with him, but he can't get his mouth to work right.

When Cole calms, he's still amiable, growing more so by the second, and Jay wonders how. "I'm so glad you're okay," he eventually says, voice hoarse.

Okay? That's wrong. Jay should be the one saying that, and even if he did, it wouldn't be entirely correct.

"Thanks to you," he replies. He almost asks the question again; _why would you do that?_

"You're not hurt too bad, are you?" continues Cole, "I didn't get a good look at you back in—back there, and I—"

Jay shakes his head, shakes it hard, "It doesn't matter—"

"Of course it does!"

"Not now!" anger licks a sudden and fiery stripe through his gut, seemingly from nowhere but had likely been there the entire time, "You died, Cole! You died, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Cole clamps his mouth shut tight and drops his gaze to the sheets. Jay's looking at them, too, reeling over how wrong the conversation had gone so quickly. Everything is wrong. He hadn't meant to say that, to steer the conversation anywhere near this direction. He leans over despite his protesting torso and rests his elbows along the mattress, a stiff thing.

Palms over his eyes, he says, "You died for me...I had to...I tried CPR, but you died." And there was nothing he could do but sit there, bleeding in the rubble, utterly useless.

Cole doesn't respond—had he not known?—and he dons a distant stare, brow furrowed in thought. The quiet that follows is a ringing sort, the worst to be in.

"Jay," Cole eventually says, "You kept me alive."

He says it with a sense of confidence rooted in both faith and fact, as if he'd been awake and present while Jay pumped his own heart for him, but Jay thinks him wrong. His memories prove as much, as do his nightmares.

But Cole continues, "You kept me going back there, and it's because of that I'm even here. And that—" Cole looks up at him, "that's gotta be worth something, right?"

Cole is worth more than something in Jay's eyes, but looking back, it's hard to see how his efforts did anything.

"Jay," Cole prods when he's unable to respond, "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

That's also wrong. But is it? Jay looks at Cole's side, then towards the arm that saved his life. Cole allowed Jay to walk away that day, but what would've happened if Jay hadn't tried staunching the bleeding, hadn't worked to keep his friend's heart beating?

He shudders in spite of himself, wincing away the pain.

"Jay?" comes Cole's voice, worried, even now.

_Why wouldn't I?_

"I guess..." is all Jay can manage, and he sighs as he says it, leaning back in the chair, "I guess so. Though I wouldn't have been able to do it if you hadn't saved me first."

"Well, then," Cole grins, "We'll call it even then, okay?"

A snort escapes him, small, but worth it, "Sure."

They agree to shake on it, though Cole has to use his off-hand, and the confusion it invites might have been humorous on another day, another time. Though Jay finds himself able to smile again, he doesn't feel any better.

In truth, he is overjoyed to speak with Cole, more than he thinks he's letting on. So he chooses instead to focus on that feeling throughout the remainder of the afternoon, as they talk until the sunlight fades. It's an amiable conversation, the first in ages that steers clear of heavy topics. Cole talks of his sketchbooks, which he kindly asks Jay to bring next visit, because even drawing with the wrong hand is better than lying around and staring at the ceiling. Jay talks of Cole's sketches, having looked them over while he wasn't sure if Cole was going to make it and marveled at their sloppy beauty.

He doesn't tell Cole all the reasons he was looking over the sketches, but he does tell him how much he admires them. The sentiments make Cole look away and shake his head, but there's a smile there, too, small and shy.

Jay makes a little competition for himself, tries to see how many times he can make Cole smile before he has to go. He loses count after the first hour, because they're both all too happy to be in each other's company.

Near death experiences have that sort of effect, he supposes.

"You'll bring me that shoebox tomorrow, won't you?" says Cole when Jay struggles to stand.

Nya waits by the door, a knock she gave a sign that the day's visit has come to an end. The sound and its meaning hurt more than it should, more than it would.

Cole wants to attempt crocheting, because Jay's birthday is but around the corner, and Jay is in a good mood enough to try a little light teasing, "Making sure I didn't spend your sixty, eh?" he jokes, unable to smile as he struggles to slide on his jacket. Springtime makes for chilly nights, and ribs are a lot more essential than he used to believe.

Cole chuckles, and he looks exhausted under the lambent light. Jay doesn't feel so bad about leaving.

"Of course I will," Jay says, "I'll bring a deck of cards, too, so we have something to play."

"You're the best, man."

"I know," says Jay. He's over by the door now, greeting Nya's grin with a nod. Before he goes, a thought strikes him, and he turns one last time, "Hey."

Cole is already starting to drift off, but his head perks up and his eyebrows rise.

"I love you too."

The look he receives in return is almost worth everything.

Almost.

Jay is quiet on the drive back, enough for Nya to point it out. Jay's response is just a shrug, because he's no more or less quiet than he's been since the morning it happened.

Nya asks if he's feeling any better now that he's spoken with Cole, and Jay does, he really does.

But he's still upset. He's more upset than he was before he spoke with Cole, because that conversation had been his last hope that his friend could somehow quell his fears.

_Why wouldn't I?_

Jay knows...he _knows _the dangers their job supplies. He lives it with every battle they go through, with Zane's sacrifice and Garmadon's, everyone fighting a tide to keep from being carried out to sea. Jay knows this; they all do.

That night, Jay takes the van out after everyone else falls asleep. He shouldn't be driving, really, but he needs air, space, and somehow their quarters just don't have enough of it.

The drive is the same as the day Cole and Jay fell together inside a building, but the night washes a different light over the landscape, changing it enough that Jay isn't reminded too much of the pain.

He goes to a distant field, where broom straw and buffalo grass swallow the remains of a barbed wire fence. A pale moon finds Jay leaning against the withered posts, bent diagonal under his weight, watching it in the sky.

Cole came close, too close, to being carried away, where no one could reach him. It's nothing they're not used to, but Jay hates the commonality of it all, the very fact that they, teenagers, children, could be so used to life-threatening situations. More so, he hates the lack of hesitation.

_Why wouldn't I?_

Cole didn't even have to think.

And that scares Jay. The thought that someone would go that far for him, invite so much pain, all for a lonely boy from a junkyard in the desert, terrifies him. Jay guesses that Cole likely didn't have death in mind when the building began its fall, but Cole didn't even have to think.

He came close. Drifting away, past a point where Jay could find him, Cole came close.

It scares Jay, in a primal sort of way that he knows will take root somewhere in his bones, so that he will always feel it. It makes him breathe so fast it hurts. His mood is a stark contrast to the setting, and for some reason that bothers him, so he tries to calm himself, sigh.

Springtime is here, a time for beginnings, hope.

For now, he focuses on the fact that Cole is alive. It's springtime, and they're friends again.

That thought makes him smile, small, at first, then wider.

Cole and Jay are friends again, and together, he thinks, they'll get through this, now and always.

A whippoorwill begins a cheerful call in the distance, and Jay watches the moon create long shadows as it lowers itself over the open field.

End.

* * *

**Voila, we're here. This is a bit shorter than what I normally do (though, truth be told, most of my stuff is consistent in its inconsistency), but I hope it was good.**

**I hope you all enjoyed, at least. Huge thanks to everyone who followed and reviewed (shout outs to JBomb217 and the other Guests, who I cannot thank privately). Thank you all for taking the time to read this; your interest and support truly mean the world to me.**

**I hope all of you have a fantastic day! Thank you for reading!**


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